Worth Living For
by Vaneria Potter
Summary: Companion to 'Worth Fighting For'. A survivor looks back at the Temple, then turns toward the future.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars._

_Summary: Sort of companion to 'Worth Fighting For'. After the Attack on the Temple, one Jedi looks back, then turns to the future.

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Worth Living For

As our ship leaves Coruscant's atmosphere, I look back out of the View port, seeing the smoke billowing from the Temple that I have always called Home.

Once it was a place of Light and Beauty, inspiring a sense of Peace and Serenity to all who walked its stately halls. Once, I could close my eyes and feel that Light, that sense of Peace, flowing through me.

Now it is a tainted memory. Now I close my eyes and I see fire and ashes. I see my fellow Jedi, lying dead. Now their bodies litter the Temple, fear forever etched on their faces, cut down by a traitor that we once welcomed as one of our own. My family, lying slain throughout the temple, in the halls, the meditation gardens, the training sallies, even their own quarters.

Worst of all, I see the Younglings that we did not manage to save. The memory of those innocent eyes, closed in eternal sleep or wide open in fear, will haunt me for the rest of my life.

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Since I was Knighted, I have been a Crèche Mother, welcoming the Younglings into the Temple, seeing them grow as individuals. I have helped to raise literally hundreds of Jedi Younglings, and loved each one as my own. Every one of those children that I cared for has a special place in my heart, and there they stay. The Younglings had been my responsibility, if shared with others, and I had failed. 

Initiates, Padawans and even a few of the younger knights, all had been in my care at some point. How many had I rocked to sleep, sung a lullaby to, comforted after a bad dream? How many had I praised when they mastered hand-eye co-ordination, or learned to feed themselves. How many of those faces had shone up at me, looking for approval when they first learned to read and write, first spelled and wrote their name correctly. How many had I played with, shared secret whispers with as they confided in me? How many of them had giggled as the other masters and I laughed at their antics, had solemnly informed me that I was their best Master or teacher, their favourite person in the entire Temple?

How many of my charges had I helped move into the Initiate Dorms, and woken in the middle of the night when they had become scared in their new surroundings and wanted comfort? How many times had I seen a new Initiate come shooting toward me, waving a Data pad to show me what they had scored on their first essay? How many sets of eyes had searched for my face in the audience when they won their first sparring match, my good opinion somehow meaning the world to them?

How many had come to me, practically bouncing in delight as they told me that they had been chosen as a Padawan Learner, or for a last hug and kiss goodbye before they left for the Agri-Corps, or because they had chosen a different path?

How many times had I carefully stifled amusement when a distraught female Initiate or Padawan had come running to me, frantic over their first monthly cycle that they needed help or advice with but _really _didn't want to speak with their (male) master about? How many times had I tried desperatly not to snicker when a young male Padawan wanted advice on how to deal with the fathomless mystery that is the fairer sex?How many times had I listened to a tale of their latest accomplishments, and felt that soft, warm glow deep inside, knowing that I had played a part in raising this wonderful being before me?

Sod what the Jedi Code says about forming attachments, what is the bond between Master and Padawan if not Guardian and Child, for example? I know for a fact that all Crèche Masters view every Youngling that passes through their care as a Mother views her offspring, regardless of species.

Now so many of them are dead.

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It is not the first time I have lost one of my 'children', each one unique, irreplaceable. I had mourned them, let them go, but none of that replaces the fact that no parent should have to bury their child, and this time, with so many gone in one fell swoop, I do not have even that chance for last farewell. 

It is enough that I almost wish that Skywalker had killed me also.

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No.

I will not think like that.

Many are fallen, but many more still have need of me, and I do not intend to let them down by wallowing in sorrow and self-pity.

I will keep these children safe until my dying breath, even though I know that it will probably be only a matter of time before Palpatine decides to be an inconvenience and send someone to hunt us down. Yes, I know that that is something of an understatement, but trust me when I say that getting worked up over everything a child does is counter productive. Several years in a Crèche will teach you that very quickly.

A corner of my mind smirks as I recall my Field-Knight sister's remark over whether she should worry about my sanity, or hail me as an unsung hero.

I say a last, silent farewell to her, then turn to where the loud noise is coming from and go to help the others who escaped in settling the Younglings down for the night.

We will get through this, one day at a time.

I will not give in to despair, because in this ship, fleeing to safety, I have something worth living for.

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_A/N - So, what do people think? Like it? Hate it? Don't give a damn? Tell me in a review._

_Thanks, Nathalia._


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